


Something's Amiss

by kurokites



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ghost Noctis, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Just For Kicks, M/M, Minor Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia, it's about ghosts, noctis - Freeform, prompto - Freeform, prompto is a broke kid, we knew that already though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:32:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokites/pseuds/kurokites
Summary: Prompto has maxed out his working hours at the arcade and still can't seem to make enough to buy gas and groceries on top of rent. Ignis reaches out to him asking for a shot of one of the houses outside of town to hang in his house. Prompto agrees and then realizes he's in for bugs galore and maybe even some ghosts.I don't know how long this is going to end up being, so here's to hoping I don't drag it out.





	1. The Request

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this fic was inspired by me wanting Noctis to be a ghost and Prompto to have to face his fears. Feedback is greatly appreciated as this is my first fic since 2014... rip. Fr correct me if there are any glaring spelling or grammatical errors those make me want to die.

At the ripe age of 19, you would think that any young man would be starting college or venturing out into the strapping world of business, but that did not apply to Prompto.

He was a professional photographer, or rather, he wanted to be. The outfits he wore screamed “artsy,” and his blonde hair was styled rather wild. His camera was slung from his neck like a piece of jewelry always completing the look. However, looking like a photographer was one thing but being the real deal was another. Reaching his dream career was on hold at the moment due to the fact that he was low on cash and absolutely refused to eat what would be his 25th pack of ramen this month. He loved his part-time job at the arcade, more than he cared to admit, but it didn’t pay enough to buy gas and groceries.

A lot of people knew this. Ignis would find him walking home late at night after work only to hear the excuse that he was too afraid of wrecking his car to drive it. He really didn’t have money for gas. Iris would go out on shopping trips and bring back some street food for Prompto on his breaks. She knew his meals consisted of ramen and frozen waffles. He knew they were worried about him, but he hated to ask for anything. When they brought by stuff and insisted he take it, he felt less guilty.  So, when Ignis called him up and asked him to take some shots for him, and even said he’d pay, Prompto was a little skeptical to take the job. He felt as though Ignis was just throwing money at him, and he knew how hard he worked to make a living.

The two boys stood across from each other in Ignis' kitchen while the blonde eyed him suspiciously.

“So, basically,” Prompto hesitated, “you just want me to take a couple shots of an old house?...And you'll pay me?”

“Yes, that's the plan,” Ignis said plainly. “The architecture is quite beautiful. T’would look elegant in my kitchen.”

“Well, if you really want the shots, I can just go and take them for you, y’know? There’s no need to pay me, man.”

Ignis simply shook his head. “I believe you have talent, and talent should not go unrewarded. I also believe you need to take care of yourself. The job you hold at the moment does not seem satisfactory. Tell me, when was the last time you had enough money for groceries?”

Prompto cringed and looked away from him. He had been found out _and_ confronted. The smile on his face fizzled away; he sighed. “If I’m being honest here, maybe two or three weeks, but I really love my job and work all the shifts I can. Once I turn 20 in a couple months I can work a better job. Don’t worry, Iggy.”

“Listen to me: take the shots of the house. If you don’t want me to pay you in cash, I’ll pay with food. Finish the job, and you get a home cooked dinner every night for a week. Do we have ourselves a deal?”

Prompto rolled his eyes and pushed away from the bar countertop he was leaning on. He fidgeted with his hands and bounced lightly from foot to foot. Dinner for a week did sound amazing. He _really_ didn't want to eat ramen again.

“Fine, fine...but only since it’s Ignis’ Famous Cooking! I’ll eat whatever, so don’t go outta your way for me, okay?” In a sing-song voice, Prompto ended his point by saying, “I like cheese; I’m easy to please!”

A dumb grin settled on his features causing Ignis to shake his head. The corners of his mouth raised to form a smirk not fully cracking a smile, but close. Prompto knew he loved his awful jokes.

“Alright. It’s settled then. Have the shots to me by...next week? Does that allow you sufficient time to take and edit the photos?” Ignis asked turning away from the counter.

“Yeah, seems plenty to me!”

And with that Prompto’s destiny was sealed, and a realization hit him smack in the middle of the face when he looked at the address Ignis had scribbled down and sent him on his way with.

It was the resting place of the old house right outside town, and if there was one thing that he didn’t like, it was abandoned places.

The walk back to his small apartment was excruciating. The whole way he scolded himself for choosing to go to the abandoned, not to mention probably _scary_ , house. Prompto liked almost everything in the world: naps, video games, running; snacks. He was an energetic spirit with enough bounce to top a kangaroo, but there were a few things out there that could make him lose all of that in an instant. He loathed bugs, the dark, small spaces, and ghosts. The house he was going to was rumored to have all of these things, and man was it freaking him out.

Every autumn in junior high, the whispers would start about the old house just outside of town. Just remembering all the stuff he heard about bugs and ghosts send a chill through his body.

“Yikes,” he subconsciously whispered.

By the time he arrived at his apartment, all the spooky thoughts in his head had put him on edge. He didn’t even bother with a snack before bed and just sunk under his covers. The familiar warmth of his sheets calmed his nerves a little, but he just couldn’t shake this scary feeling he had. He buried his face in his pillow and let out a huff. The fabric deflected his breath back onto his face tinting it pink.

“Oh, man,” he whined into his pillow. “What am I gonna do? Like, what if it's haunted by _ghosts_? Or what if it's festering with _large_ _bugs_? What if I get _trapped_  a closet? Ugh!”

He swiped his hand across his face pulling dramatically at his skin. He turned over and faced the ceiling now completely tangled in his sheets.

Another sigh.

“I’ve gotta do it. No arguing, Prompto. This is for Ignis.”

And that was his only pep talk for himself. He had made up his mind, not out of excitement for what was to come, but out of his eagerness to help Ignis. The kindness of his friend startled him sometimes with his Gordon Ramsay demeanor. He laughed for a good minute about the uncanny resemblance the TV chef and Ignis shared with their tired eyes and dusty hair.

It was going to be tough getting those pictures, but Prompto was a professional photographer or at least he wanted to be, so he pushed aside his fears and drifted off to sleep.


	2. The First Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With camera in hand, Prompto makes his way to the house. It's old, rickety, and not his cup of tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I had something different planned for this chapter, but y'know. I plan on updating every week (pls hold me to that).

Morning arrived in what felt like mere seconds, and Prompto was bleary-eyed ready to face the day. It was 6:30 AM. He had slept 30 minutes later than usual, which was okay, but he felt like he was forgetting something highly important. He pulled his head away from the pillow and rolled onto his stomach.

And then it hit him like a ton of bricks: scary house photos.

He let out a loud groan only to stifle it halfway through by shoving his face into a pillow. He had a big decision on his hands, and, man, he hated making decisions. He avoided them like the plague. Prompto was the guy who got 3 different ice cream flavors in a cone because the act of choosing one made him regret his decision all day. What if the other flavors had been better? This decision didn’t allow him to choose three flavors and take the safe route. He had to choose between now or later. Neither sounded the least bit appealing.

The act of pulling himself out of bed was a sight to behold. The sheets were a mess: strung this way and that with pillows underneath creating hills and valleys. They also created obstacles making Prompto’s exit harder than it needed to be. Still groggy and comfortably lying on his stomach, he forced himself to flip over and swing his legs over the side of the bed. The walk to his bathroom was frigid, his place was always cold, but it woke him up.

About 40 minutes later, he stood fully dressed, with his camera around his neck, staring at his apartment door.

“...wants the shots by next week...could go later,” he mumbled fidgeting with his camera. ”Maybe I should wait.” His hand reached for the knob. “No. No, no, no… I really don’t want to go, but if I go today… it will be done and over with.”

His fidgeting habits began to surface as he stood contemplating the decision. He finally straightened his posture and faced the door with a look of conviction clear on his features.

“Done and over with,” he repeated one last time and pulled open the door heading out into the morning sun.

And then he came scrambling back seconds later mentally kicking himself, because he almost forgot to lock the door behind him.

Getting to the house’s general location wasn’t too bad of a walk, but when he got there, he realized he probably should have brought his bike. The house sat at the very end of a long private drive. Very long as in 2 miles. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun was out, and the mosquitos were definitely hungry. By the time he reached the front porch steps, he was really feeling the effects of leaving his breakfast bar on the counter. He looked around skittishly and shifted his weight from foot to foot. The old wood creaked and felt alarmingly soft. An image of himself falling through the floorboards played through his head rattling his nerves even more.

“Hello..?”

It came out as more of a whisper, but it still seemed to echo hauntingly. The empty aura encasing the house and its surrounding area was strong and sent the hairs on his neck upright. The whole scene before him was just slightly off. Just slightly unsettling. Yeah, the house in itself was spooky and foreboding, but it felt like there was something else. He hummed a high pitched wobbly note and clenched his fists by his sides. The composure he had earlier this morning was now lost under an ocean of fidgeting and hoping nervously. This was not a good start to his photo shoot. He took a deep breath.

“Just gonna take some pictures,” he nervously sang to himself as he pushed open the rotting front door. “Please, no ghosts or bugs get me… Really don’t like bugs...ghosts-”

It swung open with a low groan causing Prompto’s song to die out and be replaced with a squeak of fear. Man, he really didn’t like this place. Just get the shots and get the hell out, repeated like a mantra in his head. He slowly poked his head inside the doorframe and scanned the foyer. It definitely wasn’t bug-free, but it was clear of weirdos and ghosts as far as he could see. So, with some deep breathing, he closed his eyes and took his first step inside. His shoes shuffled against the floor. His heart beat in his throat as he opened his eyes again.

The sigh of relief that escaped his lips was so heavy you would have thought he just finished running a marathon. Prompto had made it inside the house in one piece and there was nothing there to torment him! He let out a breathy chuckle.

“I’m such a weenie,” he said shaking his head. “This place isn’t scary at all!” He grabbed his camera from around his neck and lifted it. “Just gotta get these photos.”

He busied himself snooping around looking at all the old furniture and nicknacks left behind by the past inhabitants. The grand living room, with its tall ceilings and large windows, drew him away from the entrance of the house. Once beautiful furniture sat in front of a white marble fireplace. The ash, heavy and black, was scattered out of the hearth and on the carpet. Even though it was mostly in ruin, Prompto still felt out of place in the lavish home. That didn’t keep him from taking pictures, though. And maybe, if he hadn’t been so absorbed in getting a shot of the decaying children’s books left on the dusty couch, he would have noticed a grey cloudy figure manifest itself in the mirror above the fireplace mantle. He carried on without a hitch. He got some shots of the windows and the bookcase on the opposite side of the room, and then headed up a white marble staircase.

In the mirror, the figure followed him, but he failed to notice, again.

The upstairs consisted of a spacious master bed and bathroom along with two other rooms. Prompto felt a little weird about going into the master bedroom, because, well, you just don’t do that. Like, would he walk into Iris’ parents master bedroom and look around? No, just no, so he left the double doors closed and headed to the first single room. What he found surprised him. It was a kid’s room- scratch that- a teen’s room. Probably around the same age as Prompto was, and it was really weird. The act of seeing the room and photographing it wasn’t weird, but the feeling the room had was just like the one he felt standing on the porch: slightly off. He shook his head and took a breath clearing away his fear as he started looking around.

It was fairly big with a queen bed in the center. A desk sat near a window and a closet was half open revealing dusty clothes. He started towards the desk to look at the papers strewn across it only to watch a sheet be plucked up and float toward a full-length mirror propped up against the wall. The way the sun bounced off the surface of the glass along with the chipping frame that encased it would have made for a beautiful picture, except for the fact that, this time, Prompto noticed the hazy ghost in the mirror’s reflection. He jumped high enough that he could have probably touched the moon if he wanted to. His balance went down the drain when he landed causing him to fall right on his left arm. The impact of the solid floor hurt pulling his attention away from the paranormal figure to his probably destroyed limb.

“Fuck- ow, Jesus,” he hissed through gritted teeth as he rolled around on the floor.

A laugh erupted and filled the room sending Prompto’s adrenaline through the roof. His gangly limbs scrambled to pull his body up from the floor and get him the hell out of the house. He was out of the room, down the stairs, and into the yard in record time, and if he wasn’t so freaked, out he would have probably signed up for the Olympics right then and there. But all of his humor and fizz was completely gone as his chest heaved with every breath while he stood doubled over in the grass.

“Fuck,” he sputtered. “...ghost almost got me…”

Once he was able to breathe normally again, his thoughts went straight to the pictures. He had gotten some pretty good ones while he was inside, so there was a really high chance he was done with Ignis’ request. Being done meant bye-bye scary ghost house which would equal one happy Prompto. He shakily grasped his camera, opened his pictures, and glanced through them.

They were perfect. Everything was okay, and he could leave and be done with the hell house. He even had time to be home for a late lunch.

“HA! How do you like me now, ghost?!” he yelled back at the house as he triumphantly started his walk back to his apartment. “I did it! I did it..!”

His celebratory cheers and chants faded with the distance he put between himself and the house. If he had turned around at that moment, he would have seen the grey haze shake and settle into a human form. If he had turned around at that moment, he would have seen a smirk and playful eyes hidden by a curtain of black fringe in the upstairs window.

**\---**

His arm had a nasty bruise that spread from his deltoid to his forearm. It was painfully sore, but he had made it out of that God-forsaken house. And he had gotten some good shots. Or so he _thought_.

When he loaded the pictures on his laptop, the grey figure stood front and center in all of them. He was upset at first, but then it turned into anger. He had been _played by a ghost._

“Are you kidding me?! I swear to God, if he wants to play games we can play them.”


	3. The Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto was determined to get those pictures for Ignis especially after the frustrating photobomb situation the ghost had created last time. He was definitely feeling the heat to get in there and just get it over with, but it wasn't going to be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is late!!!! I am currently trying to finish up my school year and AP exams are coming up!!! I made sure to add more to this chapter to make up for posting a week late.

The arcade was loud and buzzing with energy. The layers of noise started with the bass of upbeat techno music paired with the sound effects of games. Then, on top of that, was the ocean of voices ranging from screaming kids to laughing teenagers. Acting as the icing on the cake was the flashing lights of Dance Dance Revolution Extreme in the center of the chaos. Encasing everything was black walls and crazy neon patterned carpet. All of this swirled together to create a gamer’s paradise in one small building on the corner of some ordinary city street. Prompto loved all of this about the arcade and it made his job feel like more of a break from the world. He would come in with his uniform on, lock his stuff in the back room, and work 10 to 12 hour shifts without even feeling it. The bump of the music and the kids asking him about games, and occasionally challenging him, made his heart swell. Even though he only made minimum wage, he wouldn’t trade his time there for the world.

Today was no different as he stood out on the arcade floor leaning against a game machine watching kids come and go. He was humming and tapping his foot to the beat of some nightcore song that came on regularly. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He forgot the photos, the house, the bugs, and even the ghost. Man, did he love his job. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a split second. Just as he did so, a hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder. He jumped a little.

“Prompto, your shift’s over. You can go clock out and grab your stuff.”

His manager stood tall behind him with a stone cold look on his face. The guy creeped him out, but his white hair made him look like a grandpa, so it took away from his edge a little. The kids seemed to like him at least.

“Oh, is it 11 already? Time flies,” Prompto said stretching and smiling nervously. “I guess I’ll go clock out then, yeah.”

“Don’t forget we are going to be open for an all nighter next Friday. You’re scheduled from 9 PM to 6 AM.”

“Okay! Got it, Ravus. See you Monday.”

With that Ravus gave him some sort of solemn nod and Prompto went to clock out. Some of the kids waved and high fived him on his way out as he said goodbye. When he pushed the arcade door open, a concentrated gust of night air hit him. It was cool and refreshing as it washed over him. His shoes echoed on the sidewalk as he slowly made his way home. He loved the night. There was something about it that was so calming- so serine. It made him enjoy the late walks home after shifts like the one he had tonight. He swung his arms back and forth by his side and mulled over the days events in his head. The day started at six, and he went in for a shift at eight. Now, it was past 10 even though it felt like the blink of an eye. Something tugged at the back of his mind, though: those damn pictures. Prompto had almost forgotten about them. The whole event seemed weeks ago even though it was yesterday. He stopped in his tracks and looked down at his feet letting out a quiet groan.

“They had been perfect on the camera. I  _ saw _ it. That bastard had to go and ruin them.” His words were spoken through clenched teeth. He ran his hand along the back of his neck frustratedly and continued on his way again. The rest of his walk was spent shaking his head in disappointment. Even the peace of the night couldn’t shake him out of his negative thoughts about the event.

When he arrived home, he went straight to bed for the second night in a row. He tossed and turned restlessly. He was uneasy, angry, and perplexed as to how the pictures even turned out the way they did. It was getting to him so much that he had to get up and start pacing his apartment. He needed those pictures for Ignis, but now he also wanted to get them to regain his pride as a photographer. His mind was reeling as he walked about hopping from one idea to the next building a plan piece by piece. This went on for hours. The night outside his windows shifted, and the world kept moving as he was absorbed in his thoughts. By the time he devised a plan, it was two AM. His eyes were heavy and his feet were sore, but his mind had created a so-called “fool proof” scheme to get him those pictures. He was fast asleep on his couch 15 minutes later. 

The sun woke him up around 10ish. The time on the microwave clock startled Prompto as did the fact that he awoke sprawled across his couch. He hadn’t slept this late since middle school. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rose and walked into the kitchen to grab a protein bar. He reflected on the events of the night before as he continued with his morning routine. Today wasn’t going to be fun for him, but he was going to get those pictures.

Camera around his neck like always, he gave himself a quick glance over in the bathroom mirror. He looked normal. His hair was untamable as usual and he wore something plain. But what no one knew was that his pockets were full of things. Cargo pants were Prompto’s favourite not only because they were  _ awesome _ , but they had lots of big pockets. Inside them resided an extra sim card for his camera, a protein bar for sustenance, and tin foil, because he read somewhere online that ghosts could read your mind, and that kind of freaked him out. You never know when a tin foil hat could come in handy. He nodded his head at his reflection, and with everything in check, he headed for the door. 

It was a pleasant Saturday morning that almost felt too nice to be ghost hunting. The sun was out with kids playing along the street. The scene reminded Prompto of one of those cheesy commercials you see on TV for medication with the “minimal” side effects rambled after. He shuddered. Those always freaked him out. Who in their right mind would smile about taking something where “ _ only _ 75% of patients suffered from seizures!” Yikes and no thanks. He shook his head clearing away the subject. He began to run through his plan in his head.

Phase one consisted of making it to the house, which was easy enough. Phase two was where the challenge started. He needed to make it inside and confront the ghost head on. That way he could lure it out of its hiding spot to see what he was up against. Then came phase three: he needed to either run for his life or tell the ghost to get out of his shots. If it came to running for his life- well, he didn’t really want to think about that. 

He rehearsed walking through the front door so much that when he finally reached the house’s porch his step faltered a little. The wood seemed to creak and moan more than last time. The eerie silence was heavy. Every nerve in Prompto’s body told him to go home and never leave again, but he put one foot on the first step. Another foot was placed on the second step. And then he was standing fully on the porch. It was at that exact moment that the front door slammed open with a gust of wind from god knows where. Just as fast as it had come, though, it had gone. The door stood agape now swinging gently back and forth. For security reasons, and to calm Prompto’s nerves a little, he decided to test the waters.

“Hello…?”

He stood absolutely rigid for what felt like years after the word left his mouth. Horrid images of the house suddenly set ablaze or some dead man coming at him made him swallow hard. His mouth was so dry from fear that he felt like he had eaten the Sahara. He decided to put another foot forward and take step. His legs were like limp noodles. All of this fear and spooky wind and he hadn’t even made it into the house yet.  _ Off to a great start _ , he thought. He took a deep breath and mustered up all the courage he had practically jumping through the front door frame. Getting in meant phase one was complete, but now came phase two. To be honest, he didn’t even think he’d get his far, so looking back on his plan, there was a big chance this could backfire bigtime. Anxious was an understatement for his feelings in that moment. He was full on panicking. He was standing in the foyer of the house where a ghost lived, and that ghost was probably the one that opened the door with the freak wind. Alarm bells were ringing in his head so loud that he didn’t even realise the door was shutting behind him until the exit was fully blocked. 

“No, no, no, no! Fuck, no-,” he sputtered as he spun around too late to face the door. Now he really had no choice but to continue on with phase two of his plan. He held his camera and fidgeted with the neck strap furiously. He knew he wasn’t going to say anything if he just kept standing there idly, so he forced himself to just start talking without thinking.

“Ghost guy I know you’re in here, but I really need you not to be.” He looked at his feet nervously. “I need to take some pictures for my friend, so if you could not sabotage them that would be great. I know you were the one who ruined my shots last time. That wasn’t cool, man.”

His words were absorbed into the hollow boards of the house and it was still and quiet for a couple minutes. And then everything went to hell. The walls started creaking and groaning and the ashes in the old fireplace started to swirl and swell. The air turned a thick grey blocking the light from the outside leaving Prompto isolated in the ghastly, dark mock sandstorm. He covered his eyes and held his breath as the sediment began to profusely assault his body and lungs. It was excruciatingly painful causing him to double over. The whole scene seemed to last years, until finally it stopped. He coughed haggardly clenching his eyes shut in fear of opening them. The last thing he wanted was to go blind or lose a lung, but at that moment he was sure either could happen. A broken curse left his lips as he struggled to breath normally again.

“You came all the way out here to tell me ‘that wasn’t cool, man’ after I ruined all your pictures? Is that it?” The spiteful voice seemed to echo everywhere at once.

Prompto’s posture immediately straightened and he opened his eyes in shock regretting it seconds after. Ash fogged his vision stinging fiercely. He pressed his palms against his eyes in attempt to relieve some of the pain. 

“Y-yeah, man,” Prompto replied biting his lip. “Fuck, my eyes are screwed…”

He heard light steps in his general direction and felt a sudden chill, but he was in too much discomfort to care. Tears had started streaming down his cheeks in attempt to try to rid his eyes of the foreign grit. The house had gone quiet as the blonde continued to struggle. Prompto hoped to god the silence meant the ghost felt guilty. He couldn’t handle worrying over the plans of the ghost and his probably melted eyes. How was he supposed to fight this being if he couldn't even see? What if it came to running for his life? Would he even make it a few feet safely? These questions were heavy on his mind stressing him out.

“Hey, can you follow my voice?” The ghost sounded more gentle this time, a little less malicious. He still wasn’t buying it, though. He didn’t know who they hell this ghost was or what he wanted.

“No way. I’m not moving a muscle until I can see again, and if I do go anywhere, it will be to get away from an ash slinging maniac,” Prompto shot back still shielding his crying eyes.

“Can you be still for a sec then?”

“What are you gonna do? I can’t tell where you are or what you look like-”

The ghost didn’t reply, and then he felt something cold touch his hands causing him to flinch and back away.

“I need you to take your hands off your eyes, dude. That’s the only way I can get the ash out.”

Prompto could tell he was close to him because of the drop in temperature and the clearness of his voice. His was still in immense pain, but he was afraid to let the apparition anywhere near him. With his hands still pressed against his eyes, he threw his head back and sighed in frustration. A twinge of fear surfaced before he swallowed heavily. He needed his sight to get back home, so he had no other option than to comply.

“I’ll take my hands down,” Prompto paused, “if you promise this isn’t some dirty trick. I know this is lame, and ghosts probably don’t even believe in promises, but I really don’t want to be blind. I really don’t.”

He felt the something cold touch his hands again and the ghost responded, “I promise you won’t be blind. Trust me?”

He nodded curtly and lowered his hands stiffly. His eyes felt cool, then stung for a second, and then it was over. Or at least he thought it was? It was quiet and nothing was happening anymore, so he asked if he could open his eyes.

“Am I good…?” 

The question only received a short, “Yeah.”

And so he opened his eyes. There was no ghost in front of him, or on the ceiling, or behind him, or anywhere. Prompto practically turned in frantic circles like a dog chasing its tail just to see the phantom. The house just sat silent and empty. But maybe it wasn’t. He stood still and focused on the air. Earlier, when the ghost first approached him it got cooler, so maybe if he found a chilly spot in the room... It was cold to his left.

“I don’t really think it’s polite to hide from guests,” he said turning to face the drafty air. “Also, work on your greeting next time? You don’t seem like a bad guy, I mean, other than the ash thing- you’re a good guy...right…?”

Silence. Receiving no response made him uneasy. Prompto began to fidget with his hands, his pockets, his camera strap, anything and everything, because what if the ghost  _ wasn’t _ good? What if he had made him  _ mad _ ? What if he had been lured into a  _ trap _ ? These questions made his head feel like a pouch of pop rocks. Scenarios played through his mind filled with running and gruesome death and a big, freaky  _ demon _ . Ghosts didn’t have to be inherently good, so what if he had stumbled upon a  _ bad  _ one?

“You fidget too much.”

The voice came from in front of him and it made him jump. He got so caught up in his thoughts that he almost forgot the ghost was even there. His temperature hunch was right.

“S-sorry, man. Uh, would you mind if I took some quick shots and left or…? Actually, I can just go- I don’t want to be a bother- y’know?” The blonde had tried his best to sound confident and calm, but directing speech at air was challenging. No face to read, no body language… He just wanted to get out of this awkward and freaky exchange. He turned on his heels and headed for the door trying not to make it look like he was about to run back to his apartment and not leave for days. The thought of shunning society and melting into his mattress sounded great. Sounded ghost free too. He had almost made it to the door, when the telling grey haze of ash swept along the floor and around his feet to the door frame. Each grain, each whisp came together to form, right in front of his very eyes: the ghost. He was taller than Prompto by a couple of inches and looked like he was straight of of some glorified RPG game. He had the fringe, the black hair, intense eyes; even the slightly sunkissed skin. Prompto had to check himself mentally a couple times to actually comprehend what he was seeing. Of course he had bad enough luck already running into a ghost, but running into one that could have modeled and been on the high school football team? Prompto was getting shown up by a dead guy.

“Sorry,” the ghost finally said. “I didn’t mean to be an asshole and get ash in your eyes.”

“Uh, it’s alright-,” Prompto looked at him silently asking for his name.

“Noctis.”

“Yeah, it hurt like a bitch, but it’s fine now. I’m Prompto by the way.”

Noctis looked Prompto up and down and said bluntly, “Honestly, I did it on purpose, because you broke into my house and started going through my stuff. It kinda pissed me off. But then you mentioned going blind and...well...” 

Prompto’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even thought about it like that. The guilt instantly set in making him almost explode with sorry’s.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, dude, I didn’t even think about your perspective- I really did just, like, bust in your house and mess everything up.” The blonde paused for a second mulling over a quick thought. “Look, let’s call it even then. I broke into your house, and you sandblasted my eyes. I’ll leave your house alone and find another subject for my pictures?”

Noctis seemed surprised at the suggestion and almost threw up his hands in attempt to tell Prompto not to leave, but he restrained himself. Instead he said, “You don’t have to go hunt for a new place to take pictures. Just, be respectful, okay?”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

Prompto looked at Noctis for a reassuring nod as he raised his camera in his hands. The first picture he took was one of the doorway where the ghost boy stood.


End file.
